


Think

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mental Abuse, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard liked to think sometimes, though he knew Jim didn't like it. Whenever Jim found out he was thinking he was punished, though Jim called it playing. Richard knew what it was, he wasn't that stupid but people don't 'play' with whips and gags.</p><p>Today he was thinking about Jim, which wasn't much of a surprise, since Jim seemed to be the only thing he thought about. Well, he was thinking about an absence of Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think

Richard liked to think sometimes, though he knew Jim didn't like it. Whenever Jim found out he was thinking he was punished, though Jim called it playing. Richard knew what it was, he wasn't _that_ stupid but people don't 'play' with whips and gags.

Today he was thinking about Jim, which wasn't much of a surprise, since Jim seemed to be the only thing he thought about. Well, he was thinking about an absence of Jim. He could live without the other. Not for long, of course, but maybe with some distance he would feel less smothered and he might be able to actually smile without being prompted.

He wanted to talk about this with Jim.

Jim was working.

Richard knew he was stupid and he reminded himself of this when he got up from their bed, the duvet wrapped around his shoulders. He padded into Jim's study, curling up in the corner and waiting until Jim wasn't on the phone anymore. He looked upset with someone, but he was always upset when he talked to people on the phone. He almost liked yelling at them, it seemed.

Jim was on the phone for nearly an hour, Richard sitting and waiting patiently, the duvet draped around his shoulders, he was toying with the loose threads, still thinking.

"What is it?" Jim barked when he was off the phone and Richard looked up, eyes going wide at the expression on Jim's face.

"I.. I want to move to the spare room," Richard mumbled, barely able to force the words out.

Jim stood up and took Richard's hand, pulling him to his feet.

"What was that, darling?" he asked, voice soft now, though his eyes were still burning.

"I want to move into the spare room," Richard repeated, voice only a fraction louder.

Jim laughed at him. "Why, honey? The answer is no, by the way."

"Y-you haven't even heard my reasons!" Richard insisted, already fighting back tears. "I… I just think it'd be good for me to have some space since sometimes you don't sleep and when you come in late at night it wakes me up." He didn't mention how he hated being with someone when he woke up from a nightmare and how he didn't like waking up to Jim touching him. Jim could figure those out by himself.

"It's not my fault you're a light sleeper," Jim replied, frowning and shrugging his shoulders. He kissed Richard's forehead lightly and rolled back on his heels. Richard was breathing heavily though his nose, his eyes wet, his throat feeling swollen shut. "Is that it, bunny? I have to get back to work."

"Th-think about how I feel for once," Richard forced out, the effort making his chest seize up and his lungs stop working.

"I think, if I were you, I'd be glad Jim wasn't bringing out the whip right now," Jim hissed in reply. Richard stared at the ground, his grip on the duvet tightening.

"I d-don't…" Richard tried to say. I don't think you would feel that way. But everything seemed to be spinning and he couldn't find air or his grip on reality. It felt like he was falling down and Jim wasn't there to catch him because Jim had been the one to push him over the edge.

"I'd be glad someone so worthless as myself had someone so perfect as Jim to take care of me," Jim continued idly. "I'd be glad I wasn't dead, hadn't gotten beaten or raped to death by da when I was a kid." His voice was growing sharper and it honestly felt like Richard was being stabbed. "I'd be glad Jimmy played with me and touched me instead of leaving me there, hard and aching and sore. I'd be glad he took care of me when he hurt me, when I hurt myself. I'd be glad he didn't send me to the hospital or kill me though he wanted to sometimes."

Richard hated this. He was crying now and he hated how everything Jim was saying was true, how he was sorry, so sorry. He hated the disgusting feeling in his stomach, how this almost turned him on. Well, it might have been knowledge of what comes next that was making the strange feeling in his stomach tingle.

"I'd be glad that Jim could forgive me," Jim finished. "Even though I misbehave."

The duvet was pulled tight around Richard's shoulders, his chin digging into his chest. He felt like he didn't want to be sorry, but he was, he was afraid of Jim, he loved Jim.

"I'm sorry," Richard mumbled, tipping forward and resting his head on Jim's shoulders, tears soaking Jim's suit. "I'm sorry. I-is there a-anything I…"

Jim ran a hand through Richard's slightly damp, sweaty hair, tucking strands behind his ear. He moved his hands slowly, down to Richard's shoulders, pushing down light enough that wasn't forceful, enough to suggest and Richard knew.

He dropped to his knees and let the duvet fall from his shoulders, still covering his feet, and started pressing his lips to the front of Jim's trousers.

"Good boy," Jim muttered, undoing the button and flies of his trousers, letting Richard reach up and tug his pants down, taking Jim's soft prick into his mouth and starting to suck and lick. He liked it when he got to feel Jim harden in his mouth, it made him feel like he could actually do something.

"Are you sorry?" Jim asked. Richard hummed and closed his eyes, listening to the way Jim moaned. "You're sorry for thinking you're your own person? Sorry for thinking you have a choice?"

This felt wrong, for some reason. But Richard knew it was true. He was useless, he shouldn't have been thinking in the first place.

Fat tears were rolling own Richard's cheeks and he hummed a small agreement again, Jim's hands shooting up to his hair and _pulling_. A few strands were torn from his head, only making the tears on Richard's face more frequent.

It took a while for Jim to reach his climax, letting out a low growl when he did, tearing out nearly a fistful of hair from Richard's head.

Richard pulled his mouth away slowly, his jaw was sore by now, licking come off as he moved, finally dropping Jim's prick from his mouth. His trousers felt tight but he could tell Jim wasn't going to give him anything, was going to ignore the blush on Richard's cheeks and the bulge in his sweats.

"Darling, why don't you stay in here a while and watch me work," Jim purred, more of an order than a request. Jim tucked himself back in his pants and zipped up his trousers, wandering to go sit back in his chair, opening his laptop.

Richard pulled the duvet up from the floor and around his shoulders, crawling over, pressing his forehead against Jim's shin, curling up at his feet, under the desk.

"I love you, I'm sorry," Richard muttered, chewing on his thumb. "I… I didn't mean to make you mad."

"It's okay, baby, just don't think about it again," Jim replied softly. Richard nodded sadly and closed his eyes, listening to the click of Jim typing and hating himself for even thinking about leaving Jim's side when he'd been so nice to him.


End file.
